


Shadows

by orphan_account



Series: Midnight [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on an undercover assignment Lestrade is killed.  Reflections on his relationship with Mycroft, in the minutes before his death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by DuchessCloverly's video Echo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VD-reMEz510) and by earlgreywithcream's "Echoes". I cried like a baby with both of these works and decided I needed to pen a prologue and epilogue to it. This is my first work, so be gentle!

He lay on the damp grass, back to the ground. Above him stood a man, gun trained straight at his head. He knew this was the end. Dammit, he knew it was going to end this way. Didn’t he tell Mycroft as much before he left London?

He wasn’t sure whether to try to plead for his life or to let the inevitable happen. Seconds of indecision slipped by as the man above him circled him, gun still at the ready. Where the hell was his team? 

In his mind’s eye, all he could see was Mycroft and their last moments together before he took off on this ill-fated trip.

***

“Do you have to go, Gregory? Really is there no one else who can go on this assignment?” Mycroft queried softly. Greg continued to packed his bag. The line of questioning struck him as very out-of-character for his lover.

“Myc, I have to go. It’s my team. How would it look if I stayed behind?” 

“Damn them Gregory. I don’t care about them. I care about you. You are putting yourself in harm’s way and it is totally unnecessary.” Greg turned slightly, catching a glimpse of Mycroft’s face. His eyes were drawn and Greg could see the anger and fear beginning build behind them.

He shoved a few more shirts in his bag, along with the charger for his mobile, before he turned to fully face Mycroft. “I have to go. I can’t send my team into danger and avoid it myself. That is not what a DI does.” He stepped forward and took one of Mycroft’s hands in his own, covering it somewhat with the other and raising it to his lips for a small kiss. With another smaller step forward, he moved his hand to the side of Mycroft’s face and spoke again. “I know how to handle myself. If things go south, I can handle it.”

Mycroft seemed to soften a bit but his response betrayed the torrent of emotions flooding through him. “Greg, I won’t survive without you. I am begging you to stay. Stay with me where it is safe.”

Greg was momentarily stunned. Mycroft wasn’t usually forthcoming with so much emotion, declarations of love and dependence. This man was the epitome of English strength and fortitude. His position was one that required the ability to sacrifice a few for the good of many. He was no stranger to the idea of loss or danger and yet here he stood, confessing a dependence on Greg he never thought possible.

“You can and you will. I know the possible outcomes and I have no intention of coming home in a body bag, Myc.” With that, he turned back to his bag and zipped it up, heading for the bedroom door. He needed to leave now to catch the train to Northumberland. Mycroft seemed glued to the spot in which he stood. Greg quickly turned back and pressed a chaste kiss to his lover’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a few weeks Myc. Love you.” With that he turned and headed out.

***

In those few seconds that Greg lay on the ground, his decision was made. He couldn’t go down without a fight. He’d never forgive himself for it. What would Mycroft think? He slowly began to scramble up to a sitting position, trying to formulate an escape plan. How could he get out of this, alive? Damned being injured; if he was shot, as long as he lived, he could deal with it. He’d do anything to get home to Mycroft.

“Hey, hey, let’s take it easy, yeah?” Think Greg, think dammit. Hostage situations, what do you do? Soothing words, slow movements, nothing alarming.  
“Listen pig, I’ve got you. One bullet straight between the eyes and I’ll walk out of here. You’ll go home in pieces.” The man’s eyes were ruthless, hard, cold, and unrelenting. Fuck, now what?

“You don’t want to do this. They will catch you. In addition to every other charge you’re facing, you’ll add the murder of a detective inspector to the list. Think about it.” Okay, not quite begging, yet. Greg scanned his surroundings. Really there was nowhere for him to go. He sat on a grassy hill in the middle of an open field, with a line of trees just to one side. There were no buildings, nothing he could run to and use as cover. He focused on his assailant. If he could get the man to take a step or two forward, he might be able to lunge at his knees and take him down. He’d have to do it quickly and at just the precise moment, as the man was about to squeeze the trigger and put a bullet in his head. If he missed the timing by just a fraction of a second…

“Nah, nothing to think about here. Decision made.” And with that, the man took the small step forward that Greg was anticipating.

***

Two years ago, Greg moved into Mycroft’s opulent flat. The décor was traditional old English, stuffy, over-upholstered, and annoyingly formal. All Greg wanted was a comfortable couch he could wallow on while watching telly. Damn, did the man even have a television?

It took a few months to work out a routine which suited them both. All was going well and finally Greg felt like his life was exactly what he’d envisioned for himself. The only caveat was his daughter, who he wanted so desperately to love Mycroft as much as he did. He’d introduced them, but it was clear that Mycroft was uncomfortable about her and that she carried some chip on her shoulder, believing Mycroft had been the reason for her parents’ divorce. He decided not to push it. It would come with time and that was one thing he had with Mycroft, time.

He thought about the ring he’d bought. It was almost a month before this assignment that dragged him north that he’d decided to propose. He was going to do it right after he returned. He had it all planned out, nothing elaborate because Mycroft would never go for that, but something simple and intimate. A nice dinner out at Myc’s favorite, then a quiet evening in, enjoying a bottle of wine, snuggling on the sofa, Mycroft leaning against him, reading a book and Greg watching football or something on telly (not that he would be paying attention). He envisioned this warm scene, with him getting up for a refill of their wine and coming back from the kitchen, with ring box instead of the bottle, kneeling before the sofa, asking Mycroft to spend the rest of their lives together.

The ring itself was simple. A gold band, strikingly similar to the one Mycroft wore on his right hand, the two differences being a titanium stripe through the center and the inscription on the inside. _“MH, GL Together”_

Now this would never happen.

***

Greg lunged just as the bullet started to fly.

His last thought, as he fell back to the damp grass below him, was simply “Mycroft”.

***

Sally heard the shot from behind the tree line. Fuck, she thought. Greg hadn’t taken his gun. She bolted through the trees towards the echo of the shot, followed by a dozen other Yarders who’d been following the suspect.

The scene before her made her stumble and fall to her knees, gasping for breath. Greg lay on his back on the grass, eyes and mouth wide open, a bullet between his eyes. Blood was pouring out of the exit wound in the back.

A dozen lives shattered at that moment, the moment of realization that Greg was gone.


End file.
